Golden: An AU Patrick Drake Story
by feelinwaytoodamngood
Summary: A person's whole life can change in an instant. No one knows this better than Dr. Patrick Drake and Dr. Robin Scorpio. The idea came to me after listening to "Golden" by Fall Out Boy and watching a Night Shift episode of all things. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

**Hello everyone! I was going to post this later on today, but I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. I don't own GH or any of its characters, but all originals are mine.**

_Summary: A person's whole life can change in an instant. No one knows this better than Dr. Patrick Drake and Dr. Robin Scorpio. The idea came to me after listening to "Golden" by Fall Out Boy and watching a Night Shift episode of all things. Tell me if you like it.  
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Rating: PG

Prologue

_Five years earlier_

Leonard Ascot was in his early sixties, but he could have easily passed for ninety some days with balding gunmetal gray hair and a face that resembled a squashed piece of Play-Doh. His sapphire razor-sharp blue eyes set him apart from the sagging old men he played weekend golf with at least. It was only sheer will on his wife's part that he was still able to get himself dressed and to work in the morning. Alice had suggested they move his office to the house since he had a bad hip, but he would hear none of that. The day his patients had to come visit him at home would be when his legs no longer supported him. He had tried to explain to her that he didn't want to appear weak.

With three decades of psychiatry under his belt, he was the top analyst in the state. In the beginning his rates had been atrociously high, but now he figured they were adequate. His house had been paid off years ago and his money went one of two places now: his grandchildren's savings or the pharmacy. His dad hadn't been lying when he had warned him about what a pain in the ass growing up was going to be. His body shut down a little more everyday, but he was a stubborn man. He took his medication religiously, knowing that it would keep him going as long as he needed it to. His daughter, Emma, was in her last month of pregnancy and he wanted to see his grandson, Adam, before he passed on.

Leonard clasped his hands together in his lap as he leaned back against his desk. It was all for show. Once his patient was gone, he would collapse in a chair and need assistance from his secretary to get back on his feet. For now, he had to appear strong and able. The man sitting on the maroon couch in front of him had been coming to him for the better part of three years. He had known this man since his infancy, having befriended the Drake family when he and Alice moved to Albany with, at the time, baby Emma. The two children had been inseparable until young Patrick went off to medical school. Poor Emma had cried for a month after he boarded the plane. If Theodore McNamara hadn't come into the picture soon after, Leonard had no doubt that his daughter would still be pining after young Patrick all these years later.

"I really have to wonder why you felt compelled to come in today, Patrick." Leonard regarded the twenty-seven year old with a small smile. Since the man and his young wife, Penelope, had moved to The City their visits had become few and far between. The drive was inconvenient Leonard knew, but Patrick made it once a month to talk about how his life was going. If the grin was anything to go by, he was doing just fine. Still, he had called his mentor two weeks early, having something important to discuss with him.

"I wanted you to be the first to know." Patrick beamed, sitting with his hands under him resembling an impatient child. His ego had grown several sizes too big since the last time Leonard had seen him. It was a wonder Penelope could keep him in line, but she was an incredible young woman. Unlike Patrick, she worked as a corporate executive for SemGroup, a private billion-dollar company founded in 2000. They had met at a New Year's Eve party thrown by a friend in common and hit it off almost immediately. Six months into the relationship, Patrick moved her into his condo.

"The first to know what, dear boy? You keep up the suspense and I might have to pop another pill."

Patrick bit the inside of his cheek. Leonard had one of the easiest personalities. Where he might lack in a socially acceptable point of view, he more than made up for with his quick humor. Leonard was famous, at least in the Drake family, for his charcoal suites, mismatched ties, and unrealistically shiny loafers. He had coached every one of the neighborhood baseball games until he suffered a heart attack in Patrick's fifteenth year. While it had been mild, Alice had taken it as a sign from God that her husband needed to eat better. He had done his best to grin and bear his way through sugar-free breakfast cereal, Fig Newtons, and dinners consisting only of vegetables for a whole year. Finally, he had gone to the doctor and caught a break. Alice hadn't questioned the doctor's meal suggestions, and before anyone knew it, Leonard was back as if he had never left. Granted, Patrick had caught him with a bottle of Mylanta in his back pocket when they would go and get pizza after each and every one of his victories, be they school-related or sports-related.

Abruptly, Patrick moved his hands to his knees and explained, "Penny's pregnant." It was so good to tell someone. Penny had sworn him to secrecy, wanting to share the good news at Christmas, but she had made one concession and he was standing in front of Patrick. Leonard shot up from his lounging position-at least as fast as a sixty-three year old man could-and shook Patrick's hand, clapping his back with his right hand. Rising to his full five foot eleven inches, Patrick embraced the older man and they did the man hug thing before pulling away and smiling at each other.

"That is great news, Patrick. Absolutely incredible news. How far along is she?" Leonard said, glancing over at the pictures of his own family on his desk. There was a candid of Patrick in a NASCAR uniform from when he had driven race cars back in high school. "You never know incandescent joy until you are holding your son or daughter in your arms and they reach out and grab your finger with their tiny fist." The old man continued his voice soft as if he might be fighting back a tear or two. Patrick knew he had made the right decision in coming to Albany instead of telling Leonard over the phone.

"Four weeks. It was a complete surprise, let me tell you. I had just gotten home after a twelve-hour shift and I found Penny asleep on the couch waiting for me. When I went to carry her up to bed, she woke up and smiled at me. She started talking so fast it was hard to understand her. By the time we got upstairs, I finally realized what she was saying. She said baby and I almost dropped her, swear to God. She just started laughing and hopped down. As tired as I was when I left the hospital, that's how alive I felt after hearing the news that I was going to be a father." Patrick was still in awe from the entire experience. Penny had started to tear up and he hadn't understood, automatically assuming the worst. It wasn't until her lips curved into a smile that he realized how wrong he had been. "I've never been one for dancing, Leonard, but I tell you, we danced until the sun came up."

"Where is Penelope now? Why didn't she come with you?" Leonard wanted to know, his tortoise-shelled glasses sliding off of his broken nose. He had always told Patrick and anyone else who would listen that he had earned the broken nose defending Alice's honor. He had never elaborated, but the story just made Patrick admire him more. If it cost him his hands, he would always protect Penny the exact same way. She was the light at the end of the tunnel, that much-needed cup of coffee after an all-nighter of studying and partying, and most importantly, she kept him grounded when he was close to losing it.

"She had a board meeting this morning that she couldn't miss. She sends her love though." Patrick promised, wondering, not for the first time in the last week, if this was all a dream. Would he wake up covered in sweat and find out that all of this was simply a hallucination? Well if he was dreaming, he prayed he never woke up to face a cold, lonely morning.

"What kind of father do you think you'll be?" Leonard asked, morphing into doctor mode.

"I don't know, actually. I just keep hoping I don't drop it." Patrick answered truthfully, a bashful grin spreading across his face. His chocolate, half-moon eyes glittered with silent laughter and he lifted his chin proudly. "Penny's got me reading all these parenting books and, let me tell you, I'm freaked out."

"You've been around babies and small children before haven't you? Even if only in passing?" Leonard suspected. Patrick was a doctor. Whether or not he had ever had a young child as a patient, he had to have at least seen them in the hallway.

"Yeah, once or twice." Patrick responded slowly. "I'm an only child and so were both of my parents. What if I screw up once he's here?" His eyes were round and imploring. Leonard could still remember how overwhelmed he had felt when the doctor placed Emma in his arms. He had vowed then and there to protect her always. Holidays were a little strained these days, because it was hard to take his daughter's husband seriously. The man had tried everything he could think of to make Leonard like him. What he didn't seem to understand was that the older man's distaste had more to do with the fact that he had taken his daughter out of the state than his personality or lack of sense of humor. God, the guy was boring at dinner. Leonard had gotten to where he would say the prayer and gobble away at his food, blocking out whatever 'ole Teddy might have said.

"I can tell you for certain that you're going to make mistakes." Leonard replied, watching his young protégé go pale. "It's part of being a parent. You'll learn though. In time you'll be able to change a dozen diapers in one point eight seconds."

Patrick chuckled uncomfortably. "Penny's already started looking for a good neighborhood to move into, you know, one with a good school and such. I don't know how she has time for any of it."

"Women are resilient, didn't you know that Patrick?" Leonard shook his head knowingly. "Are you staying in The City or are you thinking of coming home to Albany?"

"I like The City." Patrick wasn't going to be baited by the question. Leonard was worse than overbearing mother when it came to his choice of where to live.

"Have you told your father yet?" Leonard wondered.

Patrick shook his head no. "Penny and I wanted you to know first. Everyone else has to wait a week for Christmas."

"Can I at least spill the beans to Alice?"

"By all means. She can keep a secret like no one else." Patrick recalled.

"That she can. That she can." Leonard agreed. "This time next year, there'll be two babies at the dinner table."

"How is Emma?" Patrick inquired, lifting an inquisitive bushy brow.

"The baby could be here as soon as next week. Teddy tells me that her hormones have reached Level 10. I think he was relieved when her friend Robin came to take her out for a spa day here recently."

"Robin?" Patrick couldn't remember ever hearing about her, but it made sense for his childhood pal to have friends besides him. He cringed at the thought of his wife turning on him. She could hold a grudge like no one's business, so he'd have to watch his back over the next eight months. He'd gotten halfway through the baby book she had given him and one of the first things it warned the expectant father of was how his wife could take almost anything he said out of context. They were extra vulnerable during pregnancy. Basically, talking to his wife would be like running across a minefield and praying he didn't blow himself up. He hoped he made it to the third trimester alive.

"Robin Scorpio. You remember her. She was at Emma's housewarming last year." Leonard reminded him.

"Are you sure I met her?" Patrick liked to think he paid attention, but then what was one more guest at an overcrowded event anyway?

Leonard scratched his chin. "Unless you left Penelope's side at some point during the party, Emma must have introduced you. She's a doctor too."

"Doesn't ring any bells. Does she work in New York?" Patrick answered noncommittally.

"Port Charles General." Leonard supplied and decided to abandon the subject. "You said four weeks? Oh, you haven't even gotten to the fun stuff yet. Wait until she asks you to bring back some of the strangest combinations of food you've ever seen. For Alice it was pickles wrapped in cheese."

Patrick made a face of disgust, one that Leonard immediately mimicked. "Penny's having some morning sickness."

"Alice used to tell me that it should be called 'all-day sickness' since she spent a good part of her pregnancy bent over the toilet." Leonard sighed.

"Any suggestions?" Patrick asked.

"You mean besides, 'Don't drop the baby'? Nope. It's a learning process. You don't learn French overnight and the same goes for parenthood. You'll make a fine father just wait and see."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_The giving up is the hardest part  
>She takes you in with her crying eyes<br>Then all at once you have to say goodbye  
>Wondering could you stay my love?<br>Will you wake up by my side? _

Stacy Sloane could hear someone calling her name and she tried to smile, recognizing the unmistakable voice of Dr. Robin Scorpio. Stacy didn't have many friends, but she'd like to believe that she had found one in this young doctor. They could relate to each other on so many levels, the first and foremost being that they had a disease in common: HIV. When Stacy had made the decision to have a baby, she had never expected to do it on her own. She had thought maybe her boyfriend, Chad Meyers, would be open to the idea, but, after a long discussion, she realized her mistake. Not only wasn't he ready to be a father, but the very idea made his stomach do somersaults as well. By then, she had already made up her mind and couldn't be dissuaded. She could no longer wait for him to be ready; she was getting too old. In the beginning, she had been able to hold her tongue, been able to convince herself that she had more than enough time to find a man who loved her, one she could spend her life with. Chad had opened her eyes to what the world truly was: cold.

Then she'd met Dr. Scorpio and she started to feel comfortable with her decision to become a single parent. She had come in for a routine check-up a month ago and, instead of being met by her doctor, she had been handed over to Robin Scorpio for the night. This had come as a surprise to Stacy at first. After all, Dr. Scorpio was a research physician. Why had Dr. Lee sent her in her place? Why couldn't her own doctor take time out of her busy lifestyle to make sure that she and her baby were doing okay? Her temper was extinguished as soon as she met Robin Scorpio. The young woman was easy to talk to and she did so without judging Stacy's life choices. She had been surprised by her decision to have a baby as an HIV+ woman, but she hadn't judged. No, her reaction had had more to do with awe and appreciation.

Ten minutes later, they were comparing outlooks on the world and discussing how hard it had been to get to where they were without letting their disease stand in their way. Stacy knew it was probably hypocritical, but she hadn't expected to ever meet a doctor with HIV, not in a million years. Research was being done everyday to make new advances in finding a cure, but it wasn't until meeting Dr. Scorpio that she really felt like it was even possible. She had wanted to believe it was true if only to insure that her child wouldn't grow up without a mother.

Panic struck her heart when she remembered where she had been when she'd passed out. A nurse, upon instruction, had wheeled Stacy into an elevator when she came in complaining about intense abdominal pain. Stacy now realized she should have had the C-section done three weeks ago as had been Dr. Scorpio's suggestion, but Dr. Lee had encouraged her otherwise. There hadn't been any reason, beyond the obvious, for haste. Stacy had never expected the nurse's head to perk up and then, a moment later, be left alone in the elevator with a janitor and a stoner. Evil had been on the lookout for her tonight and he had caused the elevator doors to shut, sealing them inside, only to trap them in-between floors.

The janitor, Jason he had said his name was, had assured her that he had some medical training. Right, because all doctors ended up as janitors. Blind with fear, she had begged him to do a C-section. She hadn't wanted her child exposed to her disease, not when she had done everything over the last nine months to make sure something like that would never happen. Her stomach was on fire, almost as if she had been shot, and she was losing an immeasurable amount of blood in the time it took the janitor and the stoner to agree to do the C-section. Jason had managed to keep her calm until he mentioned that his last girlfriend had given birth to a stillborn baby. At that point, she had passed out. She could still hear her own screaming in the hollow elevator.

"Stacy, you need to wake up." Dr. Scorpio called out to her again. "Can you hear me?"  
>The burning sensation was gone, but she noticed the tubes in her nose and wrist. So they had gotten her to a hospital bed after all. The elevator had been merciful and allowed Dr. Scorpio and others to save her baby, to save her. Relieved to the point of bursting into tears, Stacy forced her tired cinnamon apple green eyes open and swallowed thickly, finding it very difficult to take in and release full breaths. Her mahogany hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat and fear and her arms were helpless at her sides. It took another wave of effort to turn her face toward Dr. Scorpio's voice while keeping her eyes open. There in the doctor's arms lay her bundled miracle, her daughter. Swaddled in the pink blanket, her baby squirmed and Stacy felt tears build up behind her eyelids. She ached for her child. God, she had never thought she would wake up.<p>

"Hey." Dr. Scorpio greeted her, a warm smile playing across her chapped shell-pink lips. Her burnt toffee-brown eyes were bright and sparkling with relief, but Stacy could see the stress resting under them. The smile was for Stacy's benefit, but it did little to reassure her. Why should Dr. Scorpio look so scared? What had happened? Where was the janitor? And the stoner? Had something else gone wrong? Had her daughter contracted the virus? She should have known better than to ask anyone other than medical personnel to operate on her. What kind of tools had they even had available to them? Had they worn gloves? Was there HIV all over the hospital? Had she cost them their lives? No, Dr. Scorpio would have made sure they both got tested. She would have made sure.

"My baby." Stacy couldn't exactly reach for her, but Dr. Scorpio seemed to understand.

"Yeah." Dr. Scorpio grinned. "She's right here. She was waiting for you. This is your momma." Her voice was soft and soothing as she spoke to the baby. Stacy couldn't fight back the tears as Dr. Scorpio laid her daughter in her arms. When she had brought up the topic of her wanting children, of her maybe discussing it with her boyfriend, Dr. Scorpio had immediately changed the subject. Now, Stacy could tell by the way the young doctor held her daughter that her first instinct had been correct. Dr. Scorpio didn't just want a baby someday; she wanted one in the near future. Brace yourself, Stacy wanted to tell her. How many nights had she, herself, lain awake simply worrying about the choices she had made, about the ones that she had yet to make?

"I was so scared." Stacy choked out, her fingers lost in the folds of the pink blanket while she used her free hand to stroke her daughter's chubby face. She looks like me, Stacy thought jubilantly. Give her time and she'll probably have my hair too. What a strange experience this was: to see a miniature version of herself. She had seen a picture of the father, but this baby most definitely, at least for now, resembled her best. "Thank you. Is she alright?" No matter what Dr. Scorpio told her, she was going to have to live with it. If her fears were justified in the next moment, she would deal with the repercussions.

"She's perfect. She had her shot and she was delivered by C-section so there was no blood-on-blood contact." Dr. Scorpio confirmed, watching over the mother and child like a guardian angel. She stood at barely five feet tall and her shoulder-length chestnut hair was pulled back in a shabby ponytail. How many hours had passed? Had she had any sleep at all? It didn't look like it. Stacy already knew that Dr. Scorpio despised the night shift, but she must have been dedicated if the circles under her eyes were any indication.

"I made him promise." It was as close as she could come to asking the question that had clutched her heart from the moment Dr. Scorpio began calling her name. For nine months she had kept this little life inside of her. Oh, when she had first felt the baby kicking against her stomach! It had been weird to say the least but she had grown accustomed to it like everything else. No one believed her because this little girl had refused to perform for anyone but her. Their bond was only made that much more real as she held her close breathing in her sweet-smelling baby scent.

"Jason delivered your baby. He saved her life." Dr. Scorpio announced proudly. Stacy could feel another presence in the room, but she was far too engrossed in her daughter's face and Dr. Scorpio's voice to turn in his direction.

"Tell Jason I said thank you."

"You can thank him yourself." Dr. Scorpio replied stubbornly. She was a treasure. They would probably never see each other once she was released from the hospital. Stacy had made arrangements to move in a couple of weeks and her new home was an hour away. She thanked God for the experience nonetheless. She hadn't known there were others out there like her, others that were successful and happy. The disease was losing its grip. Mankind was winning.

Stacy's arms were slackening as she held her daughter. Wanting to hold her tighter, but unable to move at all, she felt scorching tears run down her cheeks without her permission. It was becoming more and more difficult to stay awake. She didn't dare close her eyes out of fear that she might not wake up. The temptation was strong and her breathing had gone shallow. "Mommy loves you honey." Stacy smiled, her head turning so that her cheek was resting against the hospital pillow once more. Her eyes slammed shut and she had one final sensation of her baby grasping her finger with her tiny hand.

"Stacy?" Dr. Scorpio leaned over the bed, her eyes flying from mother to child in one full swoop. "Stacy!" Her voice filled with concern now, she glanced over at Patrick Drake and he was already moving.

"She's crashing." Patrick explained as if she didn't already know. He grabbed the phone and yelled, "Code Blue! I need a crash cart in ICU 3!" Somehow, with all of the commotion, Robin got pushed to the back, still able to see what was going on, but unable to step in and help. She was seized by panic and dread. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Stacy had been awake, talking, not a minute ago. How could life slip away from her that fast? This wasn't happening. Patrick would save her. He was a brilliant neurosurgeon. He was used to this kind of pressure.

They had done nothing but fight since they'd been put on the night shift as punishment for working on a patient without health insurance. She had been so mean to Patrick and yet he was still here, trying desperately to save her patient. She was vaguely aware of the baby being wheeled out of the room, her attention focused solely on Patrick's tense body as he grabbed the paddles and placed them over Stacy's unmoving body.

Robin knew she couldn't regret her decision to work on that patient, because it had led her to Stacy. Stacy, who in the face of adversity, still prevailed. Others had told her she was foolish for having a baby, but Robin considered her brave. Stacy gave her hope that, maybe someday, she too could have a baby and live a reasonably normal life. Stacy had found a way around fear, expectations, and the disease itself.

"Defibrillate again!" Robin screamed at him, her voice holding steady somehow. The nurses in the room must have noticed how distraught she was, but they chose to ignore her outburst. Patrick yelled for the machine to be charged again, this time to three-sixty, and Robin watched in horror as Stacy's body jumped off of the bed. Why wasn't she doing something? Why couldn't she move? Stacy was dying in front of her eyes and, for the first time in her medical career, she was completely unable to act.

The nurse's words shocked Robin back to reality. "Flat lined." Patrick took a quick look at the beeping machine and she watched his shoulders deflate. He was giving up? But why? Stacy hadn't regained consciousness yet, but she would! Robin knew she would. They just had to give her a chance. She needed another shock. It would only take one more. "Do it again." She heard herself say.

"Robin." Patrick's voice was low and patronizing. What made him think he was smarter than she? They had both gone to medical school! She knew just as much as he did! Why wasn't he backing her on this? His eyes, ever sad, only locked on hers for a second. "I'm calling it. Time of death two fifty-seven."

Robin shook her head furiously, tears falling freely down her cheeks. She didn't care. Let him see her cry. It wouldn't be the first time. He had to understand why she was pushing so hard for Stacy. This patient mattered to her. He had never even taken this case seriously, had he? He had simply put up with her to placate Robin. When she had first brought up the topic of Stacy Sloane, Patrick had accused her of living through her patient. He had been half-right. She had been. That didn't make her death any more or less acceptable. A cry tore from her throat, _"No, she's not dead!" _

"Robin!" Patrick's voice was angry, any concern lost in the layers of his trigger temper.

"Resume bagging and check the compressions!" Robin snapped at the staff, ignoring Patrick. Why shouldn't they listen to her? Why wasn't anyone helping her? Why should they? They were probably all prejudice against Stacy's condition, against _her _condition. What did they know? "I'm charging to three-sixty!" Once she reached Patrick, she tried to relieve him of the paddles. "Give me the paddles!" She demanded. "Give it to me!"

"She's a mother!" Robin shrieked as Patrick dragged her into the hallway, his grip unyielding, and his fingers digging into the skin on her upper arm. Tearing out of his hold, she continued, "You can't give up on her!"

"I did not give up! I did everything I could and she bled out!" Patrick raged, his arms thrown out in front of him as he dared her to question him. It didn't matter that what he was saying might be logical, because he had left Stacy in there, had decided that she wasn't worth saving.

"You wrote Stacy off before you even started!" Robin accused, stepping forward to prove that she was not intimidated. She couldn't let this go. He hadn't killed Stacy, but he hadn't saved her either. The disease couldn't have won! Stacy had so much to live for. Her own fears realized, she thought back to the baby girl in the nursery. She was an orphan now because Patrick hadn't tried hard enough.

"I'm not gonna sit there and watch you shock a corpse until she dries!" Patrick shot back, looking like he might grab her and shake her at any given moment. She could hear his voice break, but she couldn't bring herself to care about his misplaced pain. It wasn't that they had lost Stacy, only that he had failed himself.

_"You son of a bitch!"_ Robin could barely see him as tears blinded her vision, but damn if she would let him feel justified in his decision. She was breaking right in front of him and he had yet to care, had yet to try and comfort her in any way. Had she ever even mattered to him at all?

"Patient's die! No matter what we do, no matter how much they deserve to live, they die! Now, if you can't accept that, you don't belong in medicine!" Patrick exploded, storming away without a second thought. She would never forgive him for this, not ever. He hadn't flinched when Stacy had admitted to having HIV. She had thought maybe he was one of the few people she had come across who didn't see the disease as a crutch or a death sentence. She had been mistaken. He was just like the rest.

**Author's Notes: Song credit goes to John Mayer for "Dreaming With A Broken Heart."**


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: This chapter is rated NC-17.**

**Chapter 2**

Penelope Brooke Jewitt-Drake smiled at her latest accomplishment. Damn if the condo wasn't clean enough to eat food off the floor. She had spent the better part of the day dusting, vacuuming, polishing, and sweeping. When that was done, she got to work on the dishes and threw away all of the take-out boxes. Their refrigerator had been filled to the rim with them. Penny wondered why her father had bothered giving them a coffee table last Christmas when they had yet to sit down and have a meal together. They were a couple of common interests and hectic schedules. Sometimes Patrick wouldn't even come home until the middle of the night and she'd still be working on closing a deal for the company. Her doctor was very strict that she stick to healthier meals and cut down on work. She rested all the time in-between board meetings and deadlines. He had also assured her that it would be in her best interest as well as her baby's if she stayed fit during the pregnancy, said that it would make the delivery that much easier, so she had traded in a lot of her stress-related activities for a class or two a week of Yoga and Pilates.

Twelve weeks into her pregnancy and the baby was starting to show itself. She and Patrick had agreed that they didn't want to know the sex, would paint the nursery in yellow or light green. Some things just needed to be a surprise. She had half expected him to demand she quit working altogether, but thank God he hadn't done that. He understood how much she needed to work, how much joy it brought her. He felt the same way about his position at New York Presbyterian Hospital. Loving their careers didn't mean that they loved each other or their baby any less. Christmas had come and gone and Penny's sister, Heather, had scheduled the shower for late July. She smiled, rubbing her stomach, anxiously glancing at her watch.

What had first attracted her to her husband was his ability to live in the moment. Fresh out of college, she had been searching for some kind of excitement, something that had nothing to do with work or grades. She first noticed him when she arrived at the party, automatically thinking he was cute, but she lost him in the party and didn't find him again until it was almost time to go. He had been on the balcony explaining to one of his friends how incredible it was to save a life. Captivated, Penny eavesdropped from around the corner, blushing at the sound of his warm laughter.

It was he who came looking for her. As the party was winding down, Penny started to reach for her coat when Patrick's left hand settled on hers. He immediately apologized, explaining that his coat was under hers in the heap on the couch, and she had smiled. Naturally, he assumed that she'd want to go and get a cup of coffee with him, but she had been turned off by his overactive arrogance. She got as far as the elevator before he caught up with her and apologized for being so forward, having not meant to overwhelm her. Penny couldn't remember what she had said, but, the next thing she knew, she was kissing him, rendering him speechless at the same time. The night had played itself out, starting with coffee, moving into a last-minute decision to go to a comedy club. He didn't drop her off at her apartment until six a.m., understanding her need for sleep. She had clumsily given him her number and he had called her the next day, asking her how she felt about a Knicks game.

A tear escaped appeared on her left cheek as she let herself be taken back in time, seeing Patrick in this very spot, down on one knee with a ring in his hand. He had been sneaky about the entire thing, leading her to the mistaken impression that maybe he wanted to break up. He had laughed when she told him later that night, the five-karat gold ring dazzling in the darkness, promising to hers for the rest of his life.

Their fathers had a silent respect for each other, but they had fought all during the wedding, right to the point of the "I do's." While Patrick's father, Noah, had returned to Port Charles, a small town an hour or more from The City, Arthur Jewitt lived a mile up the road. Penny hadn't questioned Patrick's relationship with his father, knowing it was strained. Just from what father and son had said of Patrick's mother, Madelyn Drake, it was clear how much they had loved her. Her own mother had left her when she was three years old and her father had raised her alone.

Who was she going to go to when she had a question about her baby? Patrick had suggested Alice Ascot, Leonard's wife, but Penny hadn't felt comfortable. Mrs. Ascot was about to be a grandmother for the first time and her daughter, Emma, was absolutely adorable. Emma had filled her in on a lot of childhood memories she and Patrick had shared; Penny had been relieved to find an inside source to her husband's past. The three of them would have dinner the next time she and her husband Theo were in town Emma had assured them. Leonard had told the expecting mothers that they would be able to stumble through motherhood together, because their husbands were not going to know how to handle it at first. He really was a sweet old man and Penny was proud to have him in her life.

"Something smells good." Patrick declared, closing the front door behind him and crossing the room to pull his wife close. "Must be you." He crooned against her neck and Penny felt herself leaning into him. He brushed her platinum blonde hair off of her shoulder and placed a trail of kisses there, wrapping his arms around her waist. The condo was dark except for the half dozen candles sitting atop the mantle and the pair of candlesticks on the table. She looked flawless in her little black dress, her red painted toes peeking out from under black high-heeled sandals. Twirling around in his arms, Patrick noticed a flicker of green dance in front of her foggy gray eyes.

"Will you help me set the table?" Penny inquired disentangling herself from his loose hold. She went into the kitchen, smiling to herself when she heard him follow her. Picking up the blue salad bowl, she turned to face him and pressed it into his hands. Glancing down at the green leaves as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of them, he retreated to living room and placed them at one corner of the table.

Patrick noticed her standing in the doorway. "I can help you with that." Just as he was about to relieve her of his favorite main dish, lasagna, Penny moved to the side.

"Ah-ah-ah." She shook her head, setting the foil cake pan next to the salad.

"Did you have a nice day today?" Patrick asked, pulling out her chair for her. He made sure to lean down and bury his face in her shoulder-length hair, letting her scent hypnotize him.

"I did." Penny murmured, leaving a whisper of a kiss on his lips when he dropped his mouth to hers. "What about you?"

"It just keeps getting better and better." Patrick explained, taking his seat with the promise of good food and great sex lingering in the air. "Hand me your plate." He offered, cutting the dish into disproportionate pieces. Penny recognized the ploy, knew he wanted the biggest piece for himself, but she handed her plate over anyway.

"I went shopping today." Penny announced.

"Did you?" Patrick forked a serving of the delicious entrée onto his wife's plate and set it in front of her.

"Yes." Penny nodded, reaching over to pour her husband a glass of wine. Her glass was filled to the halfway mark with apple juice. "Did you know that right across from the baby store was Victoria's Secret?"

Patrick dropped the spatula he had been holding and took a moment to stare at his wife. She wasn't even going to try to be coy. He was torn between finishing the meal or taking her upstairs. She took a long drink of her apple juice and smiled into the glass. "I did-didn't know that, no." He managed, leaving his plate empty and following suit. She had chosen a rare red wine. He couldn't think of the name right then.

"I figured I might as well go in…you know just to look." Penny almost choked on her juice when she noticed how red Patrick's face had gotten. She figured she could keep this going for another minute. He teased her all the time. It was past time she dished it out herself.

"Did anything catch your eye?"

"I saw plenty of nightgowns you would have liked." She answered instead, fingering the thin strap of her dress and drawing it down her right shoulder. Penny poured some ranch dressing on her salad and took a bite. "Aren't you hungry?" She glanced over at his plate and saw that he was gripping his wine glass.

"I was." Patrick admitted. There was no way he was going to smell like his dinner when he took her to bed in a minute.

"I was careful to cook it just the right way. I wanted the cheese to melt in your mouth and pour over your fingers when you took that first bite." Penny purred, slowly crossing her legs. If he had been holding his glass at that particular moment, it surely would have shattered in his palm. Pushing out of his chair with enough force to knock it backwards, he grabbed Penny's hand and got her upstairs with very little cajoling.

Penny let him lead her into the bedroom and she reached behind her to open the door. "You're so easy." She harassed him, pulling at the knot in his red and blue tie.

"That's why you love me." Patrick answered arrogantly, rubbing his hands down the back of her dress, smirking when he found the zipper. Pressing his mouth to hers, he danced her to the bed, working the zipper with one hand while the other combed through her thick blonde mane.

"Among other things." Penny replied, sitting on the bed when the back of her knees hit the mattress. By the time his hand found her breast, she had his navy shirt up and over his head. He angled her head back, his thumb teasing her breast to the point of making her moan in his mouth.

The zipper finally gave way and he wrestled the flimsy black fabric over her shoulders, her waist, and down her legs, his lips following the path. She fell back against the bed, her hand shooting out to unsnap the button of his khakis. "Why Mrs. Drake, I had no idea." Patrick chuckled in a beguiling tone as he let his eyes run over her body. She had chosen a violet lace corset complete with ribbon and-he ran his hands up her legs-a matching G-string.

"What do you think Doctor?" Penny inquired, licking her lips seductively.

"I think I need to get you out of this as soon as possible." Patrick replied, reaching under her taut body to tug at the ribbons holding the ensemble together.

"You are the expert. I know you have my-best interests at heart." Penny gulped, feeling the corset break free exposing her.

"I take your case very personally." Patrick went on, wedging her thighs apart with his knee. Taking her right instep in his mouth, he flicked his tongue over her skin, watching her buck off of the bed. Stilling her by putting his left hand against her stomach, he latched his right hand around her ankle to hold her in place.

"You're being very gentle with me Doctor." Penny sighed, blinking back tears as he gently massaged her foot with a few swipes of his tongue.

"There may be some pressure later on," Patrick's tone stripped the statement of any uncertainty. He released her right foot and grabbed her left foot, moving his free hand to her breasts when he noticed them rise to attention.

"There's pressure right now." Penny assured him, afraid she might kick him if he continued to take his time sucking on her foot.

"Are you feeling any discomfort?" Patrick wanted to know, dropping both of her feet to the floor and sliding up her body. She whimpered when his hand left her breast and almost jackknifed off of the mattress when he tore her panties off of her and stabbed his finger up inside of her.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god." Penny responded, grabbing his shoulders and reaching for him. He met her glassy stare, his mouth unsmiling, and then he captured her lips with his. His tongue mimicked his finger and a moment later a second digit joined in on the stroking. She tore her mouth away to let out a cry and he used the opportunity to kiss her neck and the top of her shoulder, his lips parting, his teeth softly gnawing. She wanted to lock her legs around his waist, but he nudged them farther apart and replaced his fingers with his tongue. She grabbed his hair in fistfuls, her own frustration evident, but he was too lost in the taste and feel of her to pay any attention to her impatience. Just when she thought she might die from sensation, he lifted his mouth and stared up at her. She wanted to tell him to hurry up, but the absorbed look in his eyes robbed her of breath. Blindly, she caught the zipper on his pants and yanked it down, using her ankles to push the fabric down so that it pooled at his ankles.

"I never told you this," Patrick pointed out while he kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants and boxers. "But there's another reason I call you PB & J that has nothing to do with your initials."

"Really?" Penny sat up and slid the ruined G-string down her legs. "What's that?"

"You're sweet." Patrick replied, bending down to give her a slow kiss. "And you're creamy." He added, following her as she lay back.

"That's very naughty of you." Penny mocked playfully as she wrapped her hand around him. "Now, how about you let me take care of you."

"In a minute." Patrick countered, taking her hands in his and throwing them over her head so that he could edge his way inside of her. They let out a simultaneous cry as the tip of his shaft brushed against the outer folds of her opening.

She laughed unexpectedly, causing Patrick to stop mid-stroke. "We have yet to use that table to share a meal."

Grinning wickedly Patrick answered, "You know I'm a sucker for flat surfaces."

"Come here." Penny coaxed in a private tone she reserved for her husband. Patrick worked himself deeper and her breath caught. "Oh, that feels good."

"This is only the beginning. You're calling in sick tomorrow."

"I am?" She pretended to consider it. "And why's that?"

"Because I have tomorrow off." He explained.

"And what better way to celebrate than letting your wife get you off?"

"Did I mention how much I love being married to you?"

"Not today, but you can make it up to me."

"How's that?" Patrick's eyebrow lifted in question

"Quit goofing off and make me scream." Penny clarified bluntly.


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: This chapter may cause irrational behavior, a sudden onset of tears, and perhaps even a little compassion and/or understanding. This is one of my favorite chapters so far (my favorite was Chapter 1) and I hope you love it too. The next chapter won't come until tomorrow, so don't rush through this one.**

**Chapter 3**

_"You'll just have to go without me." Penny called from the bedroom. She had locked the door, preventing Patrick from simply walking in on her. She had stretched her enormous stomach into a plus sized white sequined dress, but she didn't like how she felt in it. The material hit her flabby knees leaving her stumpy legs in full view of anyone who might look her way. She doubted she'd be able to get more than a couple of feet in the white heels she had stuffed her feet into._

_"I want to see you in your new dress." Patrick replied, his knuckles scratching softly against the doorframe. "If you keep this up, we're going to be late." The perfectionist in Penny wanted to rush out at the very thought of being late, but the gargantuan woman in her reflection said that maybe she should sit this one out. It was only the opera. On the other hand, it was the first opera Patrick had ever agreed to go to. This chance might never come again._

_"Just imagine Free Willy in a white sequined gown." Penny assured him, wondering why she had ever agreed to this. The last thing she wanted to do in her condition was move. She was only a week away from her due date and she had started counting down the days. As soon as she got the OK from her doctor, she was going to hop on a treadmill and find her way back to the body she had had before getting pregnant. Alice insisted that the baby would keep her plenty busy. Where had she gone wrong? She had known from the beginning that she'd gain a bit of weight, but she hadn't thought in terms of hundreds of pounds. The last scheduled visit had shown her to be at two hundred and twenty pounds. Yoga, the doctor had said. Pilates, her friends had told her. What the hell?_

_"Nonsense. Let me see." Patrick goaded, turning the knob in hopes that she might give in and unlock the door._

_"I'm as big as a barn. No bigger." Penny wailed, falling onto the bed in a dramatic fashion. She didn't even care that she wouldn't be able to get back up without help, because she was so damn upset. Her image was everything to her. It was going to take forever to get back to her normal size. The baby needs space to grow, her father had tried to explain. It's just baby fat really had been Patrick's brilliant assessment._

_"Open the door sweetheart." Patrick ordered as he contemplated whether or not he should bang his head against the door to relieve some tension. The books hadn't prepared him for this. His wife had such excellent self-esteem before she got pregnant. Now she canceling luncheons with her father and her friends. Her boss had put her on maternity leave a few weeks ago, so she was almost completely confined to these four walls. Having realized this, he had gotten opera tickets thinking it would cheer her up. Never in all of his planning had he expected her to lock herself in their room and refuse to come out._

_"No." Penny argued, burying her face in a pillow and losing a frustrated scream in the pillowcase. "I'll come out once the baby is born."_

_"That's ridiculous. There's no reason for you to be acting this way." Patrick told her._

_"What way?" Penny challenged, pressing her left cheek to the pillow._

_"Like there's something wrong with gaining a little weight during pregnancy. It's perfectly natural and it happens to every expectant mother." Maybe medicine would get him out of this._

_"A little weight? And what about those actresses who have babies? They never look this big." Penny persisted._

_"Penny, you're beautiful." Patrick promised._

_"You're just saying that." Penny accused._

_"No, I'm not. We both know I have an image to keep. Would I be willing to take you out in public if you were even the slightest bit unattractive to me? Of course not." It was his arrogance that saved him._

_"You mean that?" Penny asked._

_"Let me in. We can still make it if we leave now." Patrick answered._

The door to Patrick's office slammed shut, the impact causing the trophies on his desk to fall over onto the floor. He threw the lock and held onto the knob with both hands for another minute, a sob escaping him. Outraged, he picked up the first object he could get his hands on, a certificate from med school, and chucked it as hard as he could into the adjacent wall. The glass shattered and the wooden frame splintered. He took the remaining certificates off of the wall behind his desk and Frisbeed them through the air one by one. It wasn't enough.

Yanking the file cabinet open, he pulled the drawers out with a snap and reached for the folders. Dumping their contents onto the floor at his feet, he emptied the drawers and then he seized the cabinet itself and pushed it over. It smashed against the floor with a satisfying CLANG and he turned around to face his cluttered desk. Ripping the phone jack from the wall, he sent the base and receiver spiraling into the door and cracking.

His bookshelf was packed tight with various titles, nonfiction and fiction, medical or otherwise. Why stop at the file cabinet? Patrick grabbed each book and sent them flying behind him, listening to them ricochet off the oak desk and rip when they landed haphazardly on the floor mere feet from him. If there'd been a window, he would have smashed it as successfully as he had his certificates. Alas, when he felt compelled to visit his office, he was left with four walls to stare at. He could knock the chairs over, but it seemed a moot point. What he wanted to destroy was buried so deep inside of him, he'd never be able to clutch it in his hands.

His keys jangled in his pocket as his body began to tremble. He only needed the gold one to open the bottom drawer of his desk. Retrieving the key, he forced it into the tiny lock and turned it counterclockwise until the lock released. Wrenching the drawer open, he stared at the black lockbox for what felt like an eternity. He should have thrown it away after the funeral, but he hadn't been able to. Picking up the box and setting it on his desk, his hands hovered above it as he considered returning it to its drawer and locking it away. Spasms started to go through the hand that held the golden key and he almost dropped it. He had come this far. He placed the key on the left side of the box and bent down so that it he was eyelevel with the padlock. He knew the code. It was his anniversary: 8, 8, 00.

In the moments he spent examining the outside of the box, it never struck him as odd that he should be left alone. No one tried to bust into his office, demanding to know what all the ruckus was about. Why should they come to see if he was alright? He hadn't saved Stacy and Robin would make sure he paid for it. He doubted anyone would back up his credibility after tonight.

Under the lid would be a wallet size picture of Penny staring back at him with an unwavering smile. Just the mental image was enough to make him clutch the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white. He had to get a grip. It was just a picture. It shouldn't cause him this level of grief. Time was supposed to heal, but it hadn't. The wound was still fresh. Time hadn't repaired his lonely soul. The precious moments he and Robin had spent together over the last four years had only dulled the hurt.

Lifting the lid, he peeked inside the box and was hit with a pain so sharp it stole his breath. He leaned forward, bracing his hands against the desk. If his heart beat any harder, it would snap his brittle ribs and catapult right out of his chest. His eyes darted back to the picture. "Why did she have to die, Penny? Tell me. Please explain to me why a little baby had to lose her mother tonight, because I can't think of a single reason. The blood wouldn't clot. You were there. You saw it. We should have gotten to her sooner. Somebody broke the elevator on purpose. Why would someone do that, Penny? Why? She and Robin are both so fragile. Robin blames me. She doesn't understand. She thinks I'm unaffected. She expects too much." He snatched the picture from the box and stared at it as if he thought the four by six version of his late wife would start speaking at any time. God, he needed to hear her voice. He needed her gift of reasoning. She had always had an answer for everything.

_He found himself back in his car. Penny was beside him, her left hand grasping his right hand as he pressed the pedal to the floor. Every light in front of them turned simultaneously to green, giving the young couple a blink of hope. They might make it to the hospital in time._

_Penny cried out, her free hand over her belly though it did little to keep the blood from spilling out of her. The hem of her dress and everything south of the material was drenched in blood as were Patrick's hands. There had been no warning whatsoever. One minute they were hurrying down the steps of the concert hall to their car and the next Penny was hunched over, complaining of abdominal pain. When she sat down in the passenger seat…that was when Patrick had first noticed the blood._

_The hospital was in clear view. His path was undeterred. All he had to do was pull up at the front entrance and move Penny to a stretcher. The call to the hospital had already been made. It wasn't his hospital, but he knew a lot of the doctors that worked there. They understood the situation and would be waiting for them._

_"You have to save our baby, Patrick." Penny told him, unable to wipe the tears from her beautiful face. Her skin was marked with moisture and stress. Her tiny nose, her perfect little ski slope nose that tucked under at the tip instead of over, was running and the rims of her pear-shaped eyes were red. "Do you understand? The baby takes priority." She was telling him to let her die if it meant saving their child. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Patrick parked at the entrance and ran around to help her out of the car. The last time he saw his wife alive, she was being wheeled away to surgery._

"Tell me what I'm supposed to learn from this Penelope!" Patrick screamed at the picture, squeezing it in his palm. "Tell me, because I just don't know. I don't understand. Am I supposed to lose everyone I care about? I couldn't save either of you! I'm a goddamn doctor and I failed you! Just like I failed Stacy! Just like I'm failing Robin! Why, Penny? Why does this keep happening? That baby deserves to have her mother. She's going to be lost in the System like all the other orphans in the world. I've never expected fair, not after God took you from me, but how can this really be the way things are supposed to be?

Patrick collapsed, his chin slamming into the edge of his desk. He was barely aware of what was going on around him. He fell back into his chair and then slid out of it, his knees crashing into the rough carpet, then the inside of his palms, and finally his face. In his fall, he lost his grip on the picture, but it landed beside his right hand. She was still smiling at him.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Penelope Drake was a gentle soul. She was a loving wife and courageous mother. She touched many lives. It is times such as these that we find ourselves questioning the Lord's decision to take her and her and unborn daughter to Heaven." The preacher's voice was very quiet. His hands were folded together as if he held peace and understanding within his closed palms. He bowed his head and his flock did the same. Some of those attending felt compelled to cry, others only allowed a sniffle or two.

Patrick looked from one wooden box to the other. His whole life laid out in front of him like some cosmic joke, except someone had forgotten the punch line. While he understood their need to be here, he wished the crowd around him would have stayed home. He needed this time alone with his family. They were all he had in the world and, no matter what anyone else told him, despite what the preacher was preaching now, he didn't think he'd ever be able to accept that he was alone. Last week he had been a husband and a father. He had had plans for the future. He and Penny had finally decided on the house they wanted to move into. He was days away from closing the deal. His father-in-law had come by the condo to take the nursery apart so that Patrick wouldn't have to look at it when he returned home from the hospital. If a stranger walked in now, they'd only find subtle clues that Penny had even lived there with him; the nursery and all baby-related items had been completely removed.

A hand folded into his and he turned to see the blurry face of Emma McNamara. She had a pirate smile, he remembered, and an irrational fear of spiders. Today, she wore a long-sleeved black dress and black flats. Her blanched face was ghostly pale next to her braided midnight-black hair and chlorine-blue eyes. As a young girl, she had hated that she and Patrick were the same height, because so many of the boys she had had her eye on were all shorter than she. As time went on, she earned a false reputation of being tough and lucked out in that she was never once teased out of fear that she might attack one of her classmates. Patrick might have started the rumor. It had been such a long time ago, he had no real way of knowing for sure.

Behind them stood Emma's husband and eight-month-old son, Adam Leonard McNamara. He was a pudgy baby with deep-set blue eyes that mirrored his grandfather's in shape and color, a button nose, and small, almost invisible ears. He was the sort of child that would always appear serious even in the most comical of situations. He was always observing, always aware of the world around him. It was clear in the way his father held him that Theo might have said a silent prayer of thanks that little Adam hadn't shared the fate of Patrick's daughter, Erica Brooke.

Brooke had been an easy decision, because he wanted both mother and daughter to share a middle name and Erica was the name of the girl who had thrown the New Year's Eve party where he and Penelope had met. The doctors had offered to let him hold his daughter, but he had refused. Penelope hadn't gotten the chance to do so, had she?  
>He had called Noah and his father-in-law; Leonard and Emma had been there since Penelope was taken into surgery. Theo and Patrick's stepmother, Barbara "Bobbie" Spencer, had shown up the following morning. Alice had stayed at home with Adam. Penny's sister, Heather, had been the last to arrive. Patrick reiterated what the doctors had told him: neither his wife nor his daughter had survived. Before the surgery even began, it was clear that the baby had already suffocated. Penny's body was losing more blood than the doctors could replace and she bled out. When Patrick had first diagnosed her-it was second nature-he had never expected to lose them both.<p>

The suit he had chosen for the funeral was black. His socks were black. His shoes were black. Even his tie was black. His hair hadn't given him any trouble this morning and lay like a dead animal on top of his head, not a strand out of place. He was sure his eyes had gone from chocolate to gingerbread in the time he had spent crying. He couldn't cry now, had nothing left inside of him.

One by one the guests disappeared, but Emma never let go of his hand. They watched the groundskeeper, a man well into his forties with balding silver hair, a bushy mustache, and a scruffy beard, turn the handle of the lowering device, releasing the caskets into the ground one at a time. Penelope went first, her casket covered in yellow lilies and white roses, her two favorite flowers. Erica's casket decorated in painted-on sunflowers and white roses. Emma, unable to watch any longer, buried her face in the right sleeve of Patrick's jacket. He stared, wide-eyed, refusing to turn away, unable to even cry.

He was on autopilot for the rest of the morning. Leonard and Emma somehow convinced him to come to dinner at the Ascot house and, when he agreed, it was like having an out-of-body experience. The last thing he wanted was to put on a brave face for his family and friends, but Emma explained that it was expected. She had yet to hold her son today, had yet to leave Patrick's side. Patrick and Noah had shared an awkward hug at the funeral and then another when he and Bobbie showed up at the Ascot's for dinner. Penny's father had made up an excuse to get out of dinner, saying that he wanted to stay at the cemetery as long as they'd let him. Patrick hadn't missed his company. He had never thought their marriage would last, had started counting down the days until they filed for divorce six months before they even got married. Emma's friend, Robin Scorpio, was the only face Patrick didn't recognize at the table

He had gone home after the funeral with the intention of changing clothes, but he had sat at the table instead and pretended to have a conversation with Penny. He asked her what he should do with the extra room in the new house since it wasn't going to be a nursery anymore. She had no answers for him, but he could feel her presence in the chair across from his. He had never been a spiritual person. When he had gone to church his motivation had always been Penny's persistence that he do. When the preacher had started in on how their deaths were justifiable, how at least they were together in Heaven, Patrick had almost inflicted violence on the old fool. Emma had chosen that moment to take his hand in hers.

"What shall we drink to?" Patrick asked, lifting his wine glass. The movement had been too quick for him to avoid spilling some of the red wine onto the white lace tablecloth.

"Patrick." Leonard's voice might as well have been a million miles away for it did nothing to silence the broken man to his right.

"Let's drink to my renewed independence. What do you think about that?" He knew his words were crude, but he didn't care. If he just kept pushing, surely they would give up and leave him to his own misery. What had been so bad about letting him go home and stay there? What was this one dinner supposed to accomplish? When it was over, he'd have to return to the condo. Then, he'd move into the his new house. Penny had loved the breakfast nook and the garden view from the room that should have been the nursery. She had talked of sitting at a picnic table in the backyard with the baby while Patrick cooked hamburgers and hotdogs on the grill. Patrick had planned to take a leave of absence from the hospital once they brought their baby home.

"Patrick, you don't know what you're saying." Emma whispered to him. She started to grab his hand, but he pulled away from her. Tears in her eyes, she sniffed them back caught his tormented stare.

"When you're able to feel even a fraction of the pain I'm experiencing right now, then you can lecture me on what to say and how to react, okay? I don't tell you how to live your perfect life, do I?" Patrick snarled, watching his words silently tear her apart. He doubted she could have ever known that she had been his first love. When he had made the decision to go to medical school, he had thought she would wait for him.

Visibly shriveling at the tone in his voice and the anger in his eyes, Emma excused herself from the table. She let herself onto the patio and closed the double doors behind her. Theo took his son from his highchair and followed his wife. "Are you that afraid of what I might do in your absence?" Patrick challenged, his tone incredulous.

"No, of course not." Theo argued, shaking his head vehemently. Theo had always been a little afraid of him for unfathomable reasons and Patrick could sense it now. He was the predator and Theo was the prey. He wouldn't stop until he ripped away every bit of flesh.

"Run fast, Teddy. Maybe then I won't infect you. That is what you're really worried about, isn't it?" Patrick decided. "You're terrified that I might, what? Take the baby when you're not looking?"

"Patrick, stop this right now." Leonard ordered, his voice low and threatening.

"You're defending him?" Patrick scoffed, pounding his hands against the tabletop. "Of course you are. I'm out of line, right? I'm not supposed to act inappropriately. I must keep up appearances that everything is fine. That is what you taught me, isn't it Leonard?"

"You need to calm down, Son." Noah stated, his chocolate hair long enough to tuck behind his ears. In his eyes, Patrick saw what he never wanted to be: a washed-up drunk.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about." Patrick retorted.

"Don't I?" Noah threw back at him.

Patrick could see Bobbie rest her left hand over her husband's. "I've never understood," He began, his eyes locking on hers, "How you can stay with such a worthless human being-"

"That's enough!" Bobbie cut him off.

"Patrick, honey, please." Alice begged him.

"Please what? Calm down? Or would you rather I burst into tears at the table? Which reaction would appease you more, Alice?"

"We know how upset you must be." She conceded.

"Right. You have this beautiful house, respectable daughter, and intelligent grandson. I'm sure you know all about loss." Patrick replied sarcastically.

"Everyone knows loss, Patrick." Leonard countered.

"What do you know?" Patrick asked through gritted teeth. "Have you ever lost a baby?" At their silence, he declared, "Then you haven't lost enough." His chair smacked into the wall behind him as he got up to leave. Tears were burning his eyes but somehow he made it out the front door before anyone saw the evidence.

"He lost more than his wife and daughter today." Emma materialized in the hallway, having caught the end of Patrick's exchange with their collective families. Theo was only a foot away from her with their sleeping son in his arms. "He lost his whole life."


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes: Song credit goes to The Fray for "Look After You."**

**Chapter 5**

_If I don't say this now I will surely break  
>As I'm leaving the one I want to take<br>Forgive the urgency but hurry up and wait  
>My heart has started to separate<em>

Robin pulled three tools from the back pocket of her scrubs and clutched them in her left palm, crouching down in front of the Patrick's office. She had done the logical thing and had him paged, several times in fact, but he had yet to respond to a single one. She had called his cell, but it had gone straight to voicemail. If he wasn't in his office, she would go to the apartment next. They needed to talk, now more than ever; she didn't want to think what would happen if they didn't get the chance.

The tension wrench was a pretty self-explanatory tool. Its sole purpose was to determine which way the plug in the knob was turned. Forcing it into the plug, she turned it to the left first and then the right, noticing that the left side gave easier. Reaching for the second piece of equipment, the S-rake, she slid it all the way to the back of the plug. She had to lift as many pins as she possibly could with one good swipe. Blocking out the noise around her, she listened carefully for the pins to drop, pulling the rake back as she did this. Due to the fact that she didn't lift as many pins as she would have liked, she held up the last tool: the short hook. Returning the S-rake to her pocket, she made sure to keep the tension wrench in place and used the remaining tool to pick the pins up one by one. That done, she pressed the short hook into the plug with a bit of tension and the lock gave finally. The process took about ten seconds. She was losing her touch.

Robin threw her entire body against the door when it still refused to budge. It wasn't until she wedged herself inside did she notice the fallen bookshelf. Its many hardbacks and journals had been tossed about the room, their pages torn out, their bindings crushed underfoot. Perhaps it was her dangerous background but, as she stood with her back to the door, her first thought was that someone must have broken into the office and trashed it beyond recognition. Logic said that there was too much mess, far too much clutter, to even insinuate that someone had come in looking for something specific. No, the goal had been absolute destruction.

"Patrick?" Robin cautiously moved deeper into the office, her hand covering her mouth as she used the other to reach out in front of her. Even with the lights, it was hard to navigate through every single thing that blocked her path. Cringing when she heard glass break under her shoes, Robin glanced down. His commendations, his half dozen certificates, ran from the door to the desk, all of them shattered. What used to serve as his telephone had been ripped from the wall and broken in half. The carpet was stained in Wite-Out, ink, and various discharge from the cluster of office supplies. Robin had quite a time getting to the back of the office where she suspected Patrick was. The filing cabinet lay haphazardly against the edge of the desk dangling above the carpet. If she bumped into it, it would collapse on top of her. "Patrick?"

Going on adrenaline and fear, Robin attempted to right the six foot filing cabinet, planting her tennis shoes against the carpet to keep from losing her footing. She reached out with her left arm to hold the drawers closed but they slid out of her grasp and almost slapped her in the face. Bracing her left shoe deeper into the carpet, she balanced her taut body on one foot while the other raised to waist-level and maneuvered the grueling piece of furniture against the wall. Sweat collecting at her neck, gasping for air only to have her overspent lungs refuse it, she glanced to her left. Expecting to see Patrick crouched under the desk-there were few other places he could logically be hiding in the tiny office-Robin's eyes caught something else.

She instantly recognized the black lockbox, another thing she was supposed to pretend she didn't know the existence of. She had caught him with it four months after they got together and he had made it very clear that she was not to go near it. She had understood. There were things in her past, reminders of both her relationship with Stone Cates, her first love, and Jason Morgan, her second, that she held sacred. Of course, she locked them away in her heart while Patrick locked his away in a box.

Bending down to capture the picture, she laid it inside her left palm and used the index finger of her right hand to trace the young woman's face, her eyes, and her warm smile. Robin had always thought Penelope Drake should have belonged to some other profession, modeling perhaps, because she had such mysterious, passionate eyes. Her blonde hair, while short, had tumbled over her sinewy shoulders in a perfect wave, and she had been a few inches taller than Robin when she stood next to Patrick in their wedding picture. She wasn't supposed to know about that picture, wasn't supposed to have gone looking for something, anything, that she could find that might link her to the life her boyfriend had had before her. Robin had barely scraped the surface in their time together and Penelope had always been a restricted subject. This wasn't to say that she hadn't slipped up, hadn't pried him for information anyway. And each time she picked away at the memory, she would have to turn her face, unable to bear the look on Patrick's stricken face. Penelope had stolen a piece of his heart in life-a piece that Robin ached to hold in her hand-and carried it with her after death.

"Would you like to hold her Dr. Drake?" Patrick's head shot up at sound of an unfamiliar voice addressing him. He wasn't even sure how he had gotten here, could vaguely remember the route in which he had taken, but somehow he had ended up in the hospital nursery. He had stood outside for the better part of eternity, watching fathers pick up their children, hold them, rock them, lull them to sleep, and then return them to their plastic beds. In the time he had watched them come and go, talk and coo, the nurse had finally come out and asked him which of the sleeping miracles belonged to him.

"No." Patrick shook his head. "No, but I would like to talk to her. Would you mind-?"

"I wouldn't mind at all." The mid-forties brunette assured him, something in her pea-green eyes rendering him into a faint sense of calm. She returned the baby boy she had been rocking to his own plastic bed and left the nervous doctor with the sleeping angel. As far as babies went, she looked alright to him. Having never met the father, it was anyone's guess as to which parent she resembled more. She had the tiniest bit of light chestnut fuzz on top of her head, making him think back to one of many Three Stooges' episodes he had watched religiously as a young boy. Her little arms were somewhat chubby but her face mirrored her mother's in shape and cinnamon apple color.

His eyes glazed over to stare at the sticker displaying her name. "Baby Sloane." He read aloud. "Well, that's not exactly feminine, is it? You'll have to make sure whoever adopts you gives you a pretty first name." He ran a hand through his hair, unconsciously licking his bottom lip to battle his frayed nerves. "I had a…daughter at one time. She was about your size, but she didn't have nearly as much hair as you. The nurse told me I could hold her, but-you know I just didn't think that was very fair to my late wife." He swallowed hard, brushing back his own tears in such a calculated measure it was clear to the baby that he had cried a lot in his thirty-two years of life. "It was a Uterine Rupture that killed my family. Basically, the little sac that kept you alive in your mom's belly, well my wife had one too and when it detached my daughter couldn't breathe."

The baby rolled over and popped her thumb into her mouth, a habit she must have picked up while still inside her mother's uterus. Patrick reached over to adjust her tiny pink hat, noticing that it had dipped over her eyes, and then took a large step back. How could this have happened again? The only difference was that this time the baby had lived. This was not his daughter. She could never replace the spot he had held dear for his precious Erica. This baby belonged to the state of New York as of this morning. It angered him to think that Stacy had failed to make alternative arrangements for her child. Other mothers tended to have a friend or family member willing to take responsibility for their child if the worst should happen. This little baby had no one.

"I should have held her." He admitted to the sleeping infant. Blinking furiously, he leaned forward and gripped the side of her bed, his knuckles whitening under the pressure. "I was afraid. Everything that Penny and I worked for, every dream we had ever had, was gone in an instant. It was taken away. And here was this little baby that had been robbed of even a moment of life." Letting out a sigh, Patrick returned his hands to his side and stood up straight. The baby's eyes opened slightly and her eyes locked on his. She plucked her thumb out of her mouth and brought her feet up so that they were level with her face. Patrick watched in fascination as her feet kicked relentlessly and her fingers grasped for the white wool socks. Restlessly, she wiggled and start to whine, her fingers fisting as she rubbed her eyes.

_It's always have and never hold  
>You've begun to feel like home<br>What's mine is yours to leave or take  
>What's mine is yours to make your own<em>

"She wants you to hold her." Robin explained, closing the door quietly behind her. Her hair was draped across her shoulders and her face was red from grief and fatigue. As usual, her eyes were tired but focused, direct yet soft. She looked as though she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, both in how she gazed at him and how she stood before him. "I don't pretend to be an expert, but-"

"Robin, what are you doing here?" Patrick cut her off.

"I went to your office, but you weren't there." Robin replied in a small voice. "I cleaned up what I could-"

"You should have left it the hell alone." Patrick regarded her angrily.

"I was just trying to help-" She insisted.

"No," Patrick shook his head. "You were spying."

"Can you blame me if I was?" Robin shot back, her chin lifting as Patrick's shoulders tensed.

"If there's something you want from me, ask me." Patrick ordered stiffly.

"Right, because you make that so easy." Robin scoffed.

"I've never told it was going to be easy." Patrick reminded her, shading his eyes with his hand before drawing it back through his hair and over his neck.

"I've tried to talk to you." Robin retorted.

"When?" Patrick wondered.

"All the time." Robin assured him.

"Only when you wanted to win an argument with me." Patrick accused.

"That's not fair I-" Robin began.

"I'm tired of this same fight." Patrick told her.

"And I'm tired of waiting for you." Robin answered coldly.

"Waiting for me to do what?" Patrick wanted to know, advancing on her. "Change? Do you want to change me, Robin?"

"I don't want that at all." Robin countered.

"Then what? I don't know what else you want from me." Patrick snapped.

"A life!" Robin exploded, her hands shaking nervously at her sides.

"And what we have is…?" Patrick inquired, confused.

"I want all of you. I don't want Penelope's leftovers!" Robin raged, throwing up her arms.

"Shut the hell up about my wife." Patrick warned, his tone gravelly and treacherous.

"She's dead, Patrick. Damn it, she's been dead for a long time. Why is it so hard for you to let her go?"

"I loved her."

"I realize that…and in the beginning I got it. But now? Patrick, I can't settle for you choose to give me. I want to be with you forever-"

"There's no such thing." Patrick shook his head vehemently.

"Then for however long forever is." Robin argued.

"You don't know what you're asking."

"But I do. What you said…I don't need this to be easy. God, the majority of our relationship is about fighting-we crave the fire, the passion. I'd rather fight with you everyday if it meant that, when it was all said and done, I wouldn't lose you. I can't lose you-" She broke off, dropping her head forward. She had to bite into her lip to even attempt meeting his eyes again. "And I know it's selfish to want you to be with me, to expect you to promise me things, when I live with a terminal disease. Just like Stacy. I could end up just like her-"

"No!" Patrick's voice intimidated her into a shriveling mess. "You will not end up like Stacy. I won't allow it."

"You can't stop it. If I get sick-"

"But you're not sick. You're not sick, are you?" Patrick demanded, lifting her wobbly chin with his thumb.

"No, but I'm not exactly well am I. I get to be the person who lives and dies at the same time." Robin laughed bitterly.

"You've survived when it would have been easier to give in." Patrick countered, wanting to wrap her in his arms but terrified that she would pull away.

"I don't need a cheerleader, Patrick. You want to deal with facts. Here they are: I can't guarantee a long and full life with you. As much as I want it, as much as I need you, there's no way I can honestly promise to be here tomorrow, or even the next day. What we have is now. That's all I have for you…if you want it." Robin whispered, letting out a surprised cry when she was steered into Patrick's protective embrace. She pressed her face into his shoulder, wanting to hold him as close as he held her, but unable to even lift her arms. His hands ran up and down her back in a steady rhythm, his breath was even, but she could feel him shaking all the same.

"Now you listen to me," Patrick demanded in a strained voice. "I'm not going anywhere. If you get sick, I'll get you better. It's part of my job description, so lucky for you."

"Lucky for me." Robin repeated in a sing-song voice.

"I've said the words before and I wouldn't take them back if ever given the chance. It was worth it just to love someone and know that my feelings were reciprocated. I loved completely and without regard for my own personal safety and you're asking me to do that again." Patrick stated.

"Do you love me?" Robin asked lifting her gaze to rest upon his.

"Yes." Patrick answered without hesitation.

Watching his reply bring tears to her eyes, he cupped her face in his hands, a worried expression etched into his features. "Well, that's good, because I don't know how to stop loving you." Robin admitted brokenly.

"I've known since you first yelled at me." Patrick explained.

"You mean when you were being a non-feeling asshole and living behind a carefree reputation?" Robin recalled.

"Yeah. You turned my life around that day and you've done so since then. Have I told you that? Do you have any idea how much of an impact you've had on my life in the last four years?" Patrick wanted to know.

"A good impact I hope." Robin said tentatively.

"You saved my life." Patrick clarified honestly.

"It's part of my job description." Robin told him through teary eyes.

THE END


End file.
